I woke to the sound of rain—heavy, unrelenting. It lashed against the windows like an angry beast, drowning out all but the most persistent noises: the moans of the dead, the crackle of a distant fire. I didn't move immediately. I stayed on the floor, where I had collapsed, my back pressed against the cold, damp wall.
My mind was swimming. My body ached, but not in the way it should have. No, it wasn't fatigue. It was something deeper, like the weight of a thousand whispers pressing into my skull. The hunger was there again, crawling beneath my skin, twisting in my stomach. But this time, it wasn't just hunger for food. It was hunger for something darker.
Something I couldn't control.
I pushed myself to my feet, swaying. My vision blurred, and I had to catch myself on the wall. The reflection in the cracked mirror across the room didn't look like me anymore. It was a hollow version of myself, eyes sunken, lips pale.
I shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have consumed that soul.
But I had. And now I could feel it, like a heavy shadow clinging to my mind. It had tasted so sweet—so powerful—and now that hunger was insatiable. My hands trembled as I wiped the sweat from my forehead.
"Focus," I whispered to myself. "Get moving."
The room smelled of decay and something metallic—blood, probably, but I couldn't tell whose. The apartment was cold, the kind of cold that seeps into your bones and refuses to leave. I forced myself to walk to the window, squinting through the grime-coated glass.
The city outside was a nightmare. Flames licked at the horizon, black smoke rising into the blood-red sky. The streets were a battlefield, littered with the wreckage of cars, abandoned weapons, and bodies. Some of the bodies were still moving, dragging themselves through the debris with jerky, unnatural motions. Others were still, their souls flickering above them like weak candles. I could see them—feel them—like a beacon in the darkness.
They were waiting.
But the dead weren't my only concern anymore. It was the living.
I turned away from the window, the heavy feeling of their gaze still lingering in my bones. The streets below were crawling with the undead, yes, but there were humans too—other survivors, scavengers. I had to find them. If I was going to survive this nightmare, I needed allies. Someone who could keep me grounded before the hunger consumed me completely.
But something about the city felt… off.
The rain began to fall heavier, its rhythmic drumming on the roof a stark contrast to the chaos outside. I couldn't shake the feeling that someone—something—was watching me. The air was thick with tension, and my instincts screamed that I wasn't alone.
Before I could process the feeling, a noise from the hallway outside caught my attention. A soft scraping, like fingernails against the door. I froze. My breath caught in my throat.
I had to act. There was no time to waste.
I grabbed the nearest weapon I could find—a jagged piece of metal from the broken window—and moved toward the door, my pulse racing. I wasn't sure if it was an undead creature, a scavenger, or something worse, but I wasn't about to take any chances.
I cracked the door open slowly, inch by inch, my eyes scanning the hallway. It was empty. But there was something wrong with the silence—too quiet, too still. The kind of silence that comes before a storm.
I stepped out, the cold air biting at my skin. The hallway was a maze of dark, abandoned apartments, each one filled with the ghosts of what had been. The walls were cracked, the floors littered with broken glass, and the smell of decay was overpowering.
But there, at the end of the hall, I saw it:
A figure.
A woman, hunched over and breathing heavily. Her hair was matted with blood, her clothes torn, but it wasn't the state of her appearance that caught my attention—it was the faint shimmer above her.
A soul.
Her soul was hanging there, suspended in the air, faint and flickering like a dying ember. And it called to me.
I felt the hunger flare, deep in my chest.
I wanted to consume it. I wanted the power it would give me—the strength to survive this hell. But something else twisted inside me. A warning, perhaps.
This woman was alive, not a corpse, and I knew better than to risk turning her into one of the many shadows I had seen roaming the streets. But the hunger… the pull was too strong.
I took a step forward.
She looked up then, her eyes wide with fear. There was something wild in her gaze, something desperate. She opened her mouth to scream, but the sound that came out was a strangled sob.
"Don't… don't come closer," she gasped.
I froze. The power inside me surged. My heart raced. She was scared. And for a moment, I wondered: was I the monster now?
But before I could make a decision, a horrible sound echoed down the hallway. A low, guttural growl.
It was a sound I had heard before—too many times. And this time, it wasn't just one. It was a chorus.
A massive wave of undead surged from the stairwell, their eyes glowing faintly, their bodies broken and decaying. But they were different now—more organized, faster, with a ferocity that sent a chill down my spine.
I could hear their whispers.
"Consume… consume…"
The woman screamed.
I didn't have time to think. I grabbed her arm, pulling her toward the nearest door. But she fought me. She screamed and kicked, trying to break free.
"Please!" she cried. "You're one of them! You're one of them!"
I slammed her into the doorframe. My fingers dug into her flesh, harder than I intended, but I didn't care. I had to survive. I had to feed.
"Shut up!" I hissed, my voice a growl. "I'm trying to save you!"
But she wasn't listening. She was pulling away from me, her face contorted in terror. And then, as I glanced toward the hall, I saw them.
The undead were closing in.
I had no choice.
I reached out, grabbing the shimmer of her soul with trembling hands. And as the hunger took over, I felt the power flood my veins. It was intoxicating.
But it came at a cost.
I could feel it—her fear, her pain, her death—rushing into me, consuming me from the inside out. And when I opened my eyes, I realized too late that I had made a terrible mistake.
The woman lay lifeless on the floor. Her soul was gone. And I was no better than the monsters outside.
The growls were getting closer. The undead were almost here. And I was standing over her body, my hands stained with blood and power.
There was no going back now.